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“Why won’t you announce who next year’s drivers are?”
“Why so secretive?”
“Have you signed Blake Carlton?”
Crap. I’d walked right into that. “Why speak of next year when this year is not yet complete?” I said, maintaining a pleasant smile. That seemed to shut up the reporters for now.
“Devin, you were quoted in a French newspaper that you were going to marry before the end of this year. Were those reports accurate?” the Canadian reporter asked.
“Did the paper say who I was marrying?”
The crowd laughed again.
“Have you popped the question?” a British reporter shouted out of turn.
“Do you see a ring on her finger?” Devin teased.
“How about a kiss for the camera?” the British reporter yelled out.
“Fine, I’m only doing this for my fellow countryman in the back.”
He turned to his left, grabbed Andy Collins, and proceeded to kiss him on the lips. Everyone in the room went wild, including me. Tears of laughter were streaming down my face as Avery Plett angrily ended the press conference.
As the crowd dispersed, Devin apologized to Andy.
“No problem, Flynn,” Andy said with a chuckle. “Now I know why all the ladies like you.”
“I couldn’t resist,” Devin said, patting him on the shoulder.
Avery Plett marched over to us, rage in his small brown eyes, and Andy quickly disappeared.
“Disgusting conduct, Flynn. Gregory will most definitely hear about this.”
Gregory Brown, president of the Federation, wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He loved the attention, even if it was brought to the federation by Devin.
“Loosen up, Avery. I was only making this bloody thing more interesting. Who wants to listen to the same old boring shit all the time?”
“You are here to answer questions, not perform a comedy routine. And you, Ms. Perez,” he said, shaking his finger at me, “your brother and uncle will hear about this. Next time—if there is a next time—you will not be seated together, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Aye-aye, sir,” Devin agreed with a salute.
Avery stormed away.
Devin pulled me into his arms, but I dodged his kiss. “You kissed someone else with those lips.”
“It wasn’t an open-mouth kiss,” he promised.
“Oh well, it doesn’t matter to me either way.” And I pressed my lips to his.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Luna
After the race in Austria, an article featuring me and Devin ran in one of the English racing magazines. It was accompanied by a photo of us taken in Montreal when he had swept me off my feet and into his pits. I suspected that Jane Edwards had something to do with the article.
I was reading it over breakfast. Devin had returned the night before to his place in Milan after three days of testing. When he entered the kitchen, he saw me with the magazine.
